All This Will Happen Again
by The Evil Author
Summary: All this has happened before, all this is happening again RIGHT NOW! Another BSG reimagining.
1. Prologue: The Cycle of Time

**All This Will Happen Again**  
A Battlestar Galactica Re-imagining  
By the Evil Author

**Prologue**

_All this has happened before. All this will happen again._  
- Colonial Proverb

The light from the nuclear explosions above the planet had long since faded. Two years on the run had finally culminated into this one climactic battle. The rag tag Colonial fleet had settled on the world below, unable to run any further. The lone Battlestar that had shepherded them all this way had turned to confront the pursuing Cylon Basestars. Survivors from the Battlestar had spoken of an epic battle, the Basestars destroyed. And with the Cylon Resurrection Ship already destroyed, the Cylons had been unable to relay the surviving Colonials' location to their fellow machines far, far away.

Richard Adar was tired. It was a miracle that he had survived the destruction of the Colonies, made possible only by the secret FTL capable ship hidden underneath the Presidential Palace back on Caprica. Even more fortuitous to stumble across this lone Battlestar that had managed to survive the Cylon virus and managed to gather up what civilian vessels could be saved. And the less thought about the actual flight from the Colonies, the better. Now, all Adar wanted to do was rest, but he had one last duty to do.

"My fellow Colonials," he said, addressing the assembled crowd of survivors in the shadow of their battered starships. "The brave men and women of the Colonial Fleet have given their lives dearly to destroy the Cylon basestars that had pursued us across the galaxy. We are safe, at least for now. The rest of the Cylons have no idea where we are, but they are still out there, still a threat to us."

"What can we do if they show up?" someone in the crowd asked.

"What can we do? Right now, we can't do anything," Adar answered honestly. "But we have time: time to rebuild our numbers, our civilization, and our fleet. And we must never forget that the Cylons are out there, that they seek our annihilation. And we must also never forget the brave men and women who protected us. To that end, I propose we name this new world after the Battlestar that they served on: Kobol!"

A roar of agreement erupted from the crowd.

* * *

  
"This is fantastic!"

"What is it?"

"One of the Solomon class probes reported in. It's discovered a star system with twelve habitable worlds in orbit of it."

"What, like the old legends?"

"Unbelievable, isn't it? We're going to have to send a manned expedition to check it out."

* * *

  
"Dammit! The Cylons are hitting the Colonies right now! We can't just stay here and…"

"Incoming!"

* * *

  
"…in remembrance of the brave warriors who died to save us," Aaron Dar was saying to the crowd, "I propose we name this world Kobol after the Battlestar they served aboard! How say you?"

* * *

  
"Sir, the Scoutstar _Solomon_ reports that they've found a nearby star cluster with a total of twelve habitable worlds in close proximity of each other."

* * *

  
"...dirty Cylons are bombing Caprica right now…"

* * *

  
"…name this world Kobol in honor of…"

* * *

  
"…Commander Solomon found twelve worlds practically right next to each other…"

* * *

  
"…Cylons attacking…"

* * *

  
"…Kobol…"

* * *

  
"…twelve worlds…"

* * *

  
The intelligence listened to the ancient transmissions, millennia old packets of data crawling across the void. Each message was but a fragment that when assembled together painted a tragic comedy of an otherwise insignificant species locked in a seemingly endless cycle of mutual destruction. The only reason the intelligence was even interested in monitoring these events was because it had once been a participant in the cycle long, long ago.

Even as it watched, this species appeared to be readying itself to start another repetition of the cycle. Maybe, the intelligence thought to itself, maybe this time will be different.

Probably not.

* * *

  
Commander Jankowski, Lord of the Battlestar _Hyperion_, studied the mysterious ship that he had found in this system far from the home systems Twelve Colonies. He had come out here in search of worlds that he could claim for his own, and perhaps raise his status in the eyes of his peers. This system far from home had a habitable world, a rich prize indeed. But alas, it would appear that someone had beaten him here if that other ship in the world's orbit was any indication.

The other ship was strange though, utterly unconventional in its shape. Instead of a proper bilaterally symmetric design of a proper starship, this vessel had a radial symmetry what with being two saucers placed hub to hub with each other. A swarm of more conventionally designed small craft milled around the thing. Still, Jankowski had this nagging feeling that the design was somehow familiar even though he was sure that he had never seen it before.

"Sir!" shouted Sheridan, Jankowsky's communications officer. She was agitated, flustered… scared? What could she possibly be afraid of? "We've received a challenge from the other ship… I think."

"You think?" Jankowsky said, annoyed at the unprofessional behavior. He made a mental note to reprimand the woman. "Well don't keep me waiting, let's hear it."

"Yes, milord," Sheridan said, giving no indication that she had noted his reproving tone.

But she did her job. A synthesized voice filled the _Hyperion's_ bridge. The words were incomprehensible, the emotional overlay that of a friendly greeting. But one word was spoken that needed no translation.

"…Cylon…"

Jankowski's felt himself go cold as realization hit him. Cylons were the stuff of childhood tales, monstrous robotic demons from the deepest darkest beyond come to destroy humanity. The tales were very clear that the Cylons were liars, smiling false platitudes of friendship even as they maneuvered to stab humanity in the back with their alien, star-shaped ships… ships like this one.

No, not this time, Jankowski resolved. The Cylons had returned to destroy humanity. The Colonies needed to be warned. But first, the _Hyperion_ needed to survive.

"Milord," Sheridan spoke, breaking Jankowski's train of thought, "do you wish to send a reply?"

"Yes, yes I think so," Jankowski said. He pressed the intercom button. "All weapon stations, this is the Commander." He paused slightly, eyes locked onto the Cylon ship. "Open fire."


	2. Part 1: The Legend to Be

**All This Will Happen Again**

**Part 1: The Legend To Be**

As the shuttle ferried him over from his _Battlestar Atlantica_, Adar Lee, Lord President of the Twelve Colonies of Humanity, studied his destination, the looming mass of the newest Battlestar in his personal Fleet. Unlike other Battlestars, this one was not a sleek and smooth shape pleasing to the eye; the [i]Galactica[/i] was an ugly, slab sided monster whose guiding design principle was combat efficiency… or at least what her Commander had deemed to be combat efficient. Other Commanders might have disagreed.

The _Galactica_ also differed from more conventional Battlestars in other ways as well that were immediately obvious to the eye. One was the lack of any visible heavy anti-capitol ship turrets, which had been dropped from the design in favor of massed point defense turrets lining the hull. The other strange design features were the outsized flight pods for the deployment and recovery of fighters – two of them no less – flanking the primary hull and attached by multiple arms.

In other words, _Galactica_ wasn't optimized to fight her fellow Colonials, but to fight Cylons.

"So, what do you think of her, Baltar?" Adar asked his aide, waving at the _Galactica_.

"It's quite… um, unconventional, milord," Count Baltar Alois replied cautiously. "But after tomorrow, we shouldn't need her like anymore. Yes, I'm afraid it will be quite the relic, which is a shame given how much of our resources were put into her."

In Adar's opinion, Count Baltar was a naïve twit, but a powerful naïve twit who had many followers among the Colonial aristocracy and even the peasantry who were also naïve twits. They actually believed that they could negotiate a peace with the Cylons in good faith, not understanding that the instant the Colonials' backs were turned that the Cylons would stab them in the back. But Adar found that Baltar's faction had certain uses.

"Of course," Adar said to Baltar, giving the lesser lord a sincere looking smile. "I whole heartedly agree with you," he said truthfully.

* * *

"Lords of Kobol, this thing is a waste of treasure," sniffed Commander Nagala Green of the Battlestar _Triton_ as he sampled the buffet table. By tradition, a Commander newly arrived to a fleet would invite his or her peers over to show off their Battlestar. Typically, this involved throwing a party as well. And from what he had seen so far, Nagala was far from impressed.

"Is there a problem, Nagala?" a familiar voice asked behind him.

Nagala turned to find a small, middle-aged woman in a Battlestar Commander's regalia there. Just behind her was a younger woman in the prime of her life, glaring at Nagala with a look of offended honor. The older woman was merely impassive, but that didn't fool Nagala. The two women were mother and daughter after all.

"Only that I can't fathom the design choices you but into the _Galactica_, Adama," Nagala replied. "A Battlestar is supposed to fight battles after all, but you've armed yourself with nothing but popguns. And while those big flight pods make for lots of convenient parking space for our shuttles, I just don't see what good they'd be in a fight."

"Tell me, Nagala," Adama Williams said slowly, swirling the drink in her hand expressively. "Have you ever fought the Cylons? Or even read the reports from the front?"

"You know I haven't, Adama," Nagala replied, scowling. "I've always been overlooked for front line duty. Why, if I had been out there, it would be us pushing the Cylons back to their home worlds, not them pushing us back to ours."

"Well I have fought them, Nagala," Adama replied, speaking slowly as if trying to instruct a particularly slow school boy. "And the one thing Cylons are not going to do if they can help it is get into a traditional slugging match with our Battlestars. What they're going to do is send waves of their fighters at us from beyond the effective range of our own weapons."

"Fighters can't harm Battlestars," Nagala scoffed.

"Yes they can," Adama went on, "because the Cylons send them in such numbers as to overwhelm the token point defense that a traditional Battlestar has. And those Raiders are armed with nuclear weapons. Yes, I know that nuclear weapons are primitive, but they can kill Battlestars if used en masse."

"Then the obvious solution is to charge in and destroy the Basestars before they can launch," Nagala said confidently. "We know how fragile they are despite their size."

"Even if by some miracle you manage to sneak into pulse cannon range of a Basestar, that's not going to be as easy as you think," Adama told him. "They've managed to develop a rudimentary shield system, at least good enough to stop the plasma fire from our own guns from being instantly lethal."

"Nonsense," Nagala argued. "Everyone knows the Cylons are more primitive than us. Why…" Whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by the doorman.

"My Lords and Ladies, Lord President Adar of the Twelve Colonies of Humanity has arrived."

"Excuse me, Nagala," Adama said, turning away. "I must go play the gracious hostess. Come along, Athena."'

* * *

"Adar, welcome aboard the _Galactica_," Adama greeted, planting a chaste kiss on her liege lord's cheek.

"Adama, a pleasure as always," Adar said with a bow. He turned to Adama's daughter. "Athena, you're looking as radiant as ever."

"Father," Athena said simply in greeting.

"And you both know my aide, of course," Adar said.

"Count Baltar," Adama said with some distaste.

"A pleasure as always, milady," Baltar said completely sincerely. If he noticed Adama's antipathy towards him, he gave no sign. "And Lady Athena, perhaps you'll give me the pleasure of your company for dinner?"

"Um, I'm busy later," Athena said quickly. "New Battlestar and all. Lots of minor teething problems and all that."

"Of course, another time then?" Baltar suggested.

"So, Adar, what's the word from the front?" Adama whispered while Athena was preoccupied with fending off Baltar's advances.

"Bad," Adar whispered back. "We're on the verge of losing the Althea system. If we do…"

"If we do, then all that's left for the Cylons to take are the original Twelve Colonies," Adama concluded. "Once they find jump points leading to us and get into our systems unopposed – and they always do – then we're doomed."

"Don't worry, milady," Adar assured her, giving her his that dazzling confident smile that had first attracted Adama to him many years ago. Adama had since gotten to know him better. "I have a Plan."

"Oh dear…" Adama said, dread filling her.

"My Lords and Ladies!" Adar spoke, raising his voice to carry over the hubbub of the assembly hall. "May I have your attention for the moment?"

It took a few moments, but when the highest ranking noble in the Twelve Colonies demanded their attention, everyone was wise enough to give it. The assembled nobles and their retainers settled down to hear what Adar had to say.

"My Lords and Ladies," Adar began when he had everyone's attention. "For ten years, we have been at war ever since the ancient enemy returned. At first, victories against the evil Cylons came easy, so east in fact that when we wiped out their world and fleet at Gamorray that we had achieved total victory. But the Cylons just kept coming, kept throwing Basestars and Raiders at us in uncountable numbers, wearing away at us with their primitive slug throwers and missiles in their fanatic determination to destroy us all. And when they take our worlds from us, they are not satisfied to simply burn them, kill our people and be done with it. No, they send in their soulless robotic Centurions by the millions to grind our people's face into the dirt personally.

"Well, no more of that I say," Adar went on. "I have a plan to put an end to this war once and for all. Count Baltar?"

"Er, yes, thank you for that rousing introduction, milord President," Baltar said. "For the past few weeks, I have been acting under Lord President Adar's orders to negotiate a cease fire with the Cylons. They've expressed interest and are willing to negotiate a peace treaty with us. In fact, they're so eager that they've told me that their Imperious Leader is coming personally to negotiate the details." He beamed happily at the crowd. "My Lords and Ladies, the end of the war is now in sight!"

A rising tide of angry and outraged shouts rose up to meet Baltar's words.

"My Lords and Ladies, please!" Adar shouted. The crowd quieted down. "Please, this is the only way I see that can end this war. Tomorrow, the Imperious Leader of the Cylons will come to meet with us on the far end of the Althea jump point. And also tomorrow, I will go to meet him with every Battlestar in this fleet to kill him! And with the loss of their Imperious Leader, the Cylons will surely be thrown into disarray and easy pickings for us. The war will be won! How say you, my Lords and Ladies?"

The crowd burst into exultant cheers. Only two didn't join them. One was Count Baltar, who looked absolutely horrified. The other was Adama Williams, whose face betrayed no emotions at all; but even so, she looked disturbed.


	3. Part 2: Questions of Honor

**All This Will Happen Again**

**Part 2: Questions of Honor**

Jump points weren't points per se. They were areas of space – small areas in the grand scheme of things – that were somehow connected to other areas of space many light years away. Jump points were only ever found in close proximity to stars or the remnants of stars, more often than not in the inner system where life bearing worlds could be found. Colonial scientists have long speculated on how they came to be. The more religious Colonials believed that jump points had been created by the Lords of Kobol long before the Colonials' ancestors had ever come to the Twelve Colonies.

Whatever their origin, jump points gave the Colonials access to the stars. The control of jump points was strategic priority back in the days when Colonial had fought Colonial. But then the Cylons had come and strategy had turned on its head. Jump points were still vital to the Colonials, but the Cylons all but ignored them except to blockade them to prevent passage by Colonial ships. The Cylons themselves always came in from the outer system and never through a known jump point, prompting many a Colonial analyst to speculate that the Cylons used an entirely different kind of jump point, perhaps ones with properties different from the jump points that the Colonials were familiar with.

The jump point that connected the Caprica system to the Althea system supported the idea. While the Caprica end was inside Caprica's orbit, the Althea end was well outside the areas where jump points were normally found.

There was a flash of light in the jump point and a small Colonial yacht appeared. The civilian ship reoriented itself and then accelerated towards the three waiting Cylon Basestars that were sitting some ten thousand klicks away. A pair of patrolling Raiders altered their vectors toward the new arrival.

"Cylon Basestars, this is Ambassador Baltar of the Twelve Colonies," the yacht's owner transmitted. "I am requesting docking instructions. I need to speak with your Commander, please."

Baltar didn't want to be here, but his own sense of honor compelled him to. He had negotiated the meeting between Adar and the Cylon's Imperious Leader in good faith. Then he discovered that Adar had played him for a fool, used the negotiations to set a dishonorable trap. Of course, there was his oath to faithfully serve Adar, but what oath could be binding in the face of such perfidy?

"Ambassador Baltar, this is _Imperious Leader_," the Cylons replied with that disturbing, not quite human voice that they synthesized. Baltar made a mental note that the Cylon's Imperious Leader was already present. That could be good… or really bad depending on how the creature took his news. "You are early. Is there a problem?"

"I…" Baltar hesitated. Was this really the right thing to do? Would the Cylons really honor any alternative agreement he might be able to talk them once Adar's ambush inevitably failed? Could Baltar really save the Colonies this way?

Yes, Baltar thought. This is the right thing to do. It had to be, otherwise everything he had ever been taught about honor and chivalry was a lie.

"I have a message for your Imperious Leader," Baltar said. "And I must deliver it personally."

* * *

"Adar, may I speak with you in private?" Adama asked as the other Commanders filed out of the _Galactica's_ meeting room after the planning session. It had been a short session. The plan was very simple: charge out of the jump point, shoot up anything Cylon, and then retreat back through the jump point before any Cylon reinforcements could arrive.

"Now, Adama dear, I know you wanted to lead the attack instead of being relegated to keeping the jump point secure," Adar replied. "But it's a vital mission nonetheless."

"It's not about that," Adama told him. "I even understand the tactical necessities for that. No, I wanted to talk about something else."

"Paulo and Zack?" Adar guessed. "Our sons our fine, I assure you. I'm sorry that they couldn't be here, but I've assigned them to a fall back plan in case that this gambit doesn't work as well as I hope."

"As much as I'd like to know what you have them doing," Adama admitted, "they're not why I wanted to talk to you."

"Hmm, well then you have me stumped about what you want to talk about," Adar said. "So what's on your mind, Adama?"

Adama looked around before speaking, making sure that no one else was in earshot. The briefing room was now empty but for the two of them. She turned back to Adar.

"It's about the whole basis of this attack plan of yours and I have to ask," Adama began. She hesitated, then spoke her mind. "Are you out of your mind?"

"What?" Adar said, nonplussed by the seeming tangent.

"You're planning to assault an enemy leader under a flag of truce," Adama explained. "Yes, yes, the Cylons are our enemies, but how can you violate your honor and the honor of the Combined Colonial Fleet in such a manner?"

"Adama, they're Cylons," Adar said patiently. "Honor is utterly lost on them. All the old stories agree on that. They also all agree that our destruction is their intentions."

"That doesn't mean we should lower ourselves to their level," Adama argued.

"Well, I've known you long enough to know when it's pointless to argue with you," Adar sighed. "So the question is, is your honor so outraged that you'll leave and let your fellow Commanders hang in the wind if things go badly? Because that too is a dishonor, Adama. You and I both know that. Will you abandon your peers, abandon me in our time of greatest need?"

Adama didn't reply right away, biting her lip in thought. After a few moments, she spoke.

"No."

* * *

After boarding a Basestar, Baltar was met by Centurions as he exited his yacht. He eyed his escorts nervously. The shiny metal robots were only vaguely humanoid in that they had two arms, two legs, and stood upright with a head on top. The head itself was featureless but for a horizontal slit where a red light bobbed back and forth. Most Centurions that Baltar had seen previously were silver patterned with different amounts of gold. The ones with any gold plating were rare, and the more gold plating they had, the rare they seemed to become. Baltar guessed that it was some kind of ranking insignia, and one of his current escorts was covered entirely in gold plating.

"Ah, are you the Imperious Leader?" Baltar asked the gold Centurion.

"Negative," the Centurion replied. "Please follow me. Our leader wishes to meet with you."

Baltar was led deeper into the Basestar. As he did, he looked around with all the gawkiness of a tourist. The internal architecture was severe and dull, having an industrial look to everything with little to nothing in the way of concessions to aesthetics. Or at least to human aesthetics, Baltar corrected himself. For all he knew, he could have been looking at Cylon pornography.

Baltar and his escorts boarded a lift that carried them deeper into the Basestar. In a short while, the lift stopped, but its door failed to open right away.

"Enter," the gold Centurion instructed Baltar. "Our leader will meet with you when convenient." The moment it finished speaking, the lift's door opened.

Baltar was ushered into a small but luxurious suite obviously designed for human habitation. The lights were dim, the better to let anyone in the suite to see the vast and glorious panorama of stars that filled one entire wall. But that wall couldn't possibly be an actual window because Baltar was pretty sure that he was far too deep inside the Basestar for a window to show anything but machinery. A wall screen that big and so finely detailed as to be indistinguishable from a window was a rare luxury even back in the Colonies.

Turning from the view, Baltar's eye took in other details. The floor was richly carpeted wall to wall. The furniture was strangely shaped, but not unpleasing to the eye. A bottle of wine and a pair of drinking glasses sat on one crystalline table next to a fur covered bed. A small bathing pool took up one corner, and it was occupied.

Baltar froze as one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen rose up out of the pool, completely naked. If she noticed his presence, she gave no sign. Long blonde hair framed a lovely face and streamed down to her shoulders as she reached over to take a crimson robe hanging carelessly off a nearby chair. She turned to look straight at Baltar and smiled seductively as she put on the robe. It was thin and seemed to cling enticingly to every small curve of her body.

"Hello," she said to him.

Baltar's brain shut down as the vision before him sent his hormones into overdrive. His response was more or less automatic.

"Allow me to introduce myself, dear girl," Baltar said, taking her right hand and bowing to kiss the back of it. "Baltar Alois, Count of a modest fiefdom on Picon, at your service."

"I'm Lucy Ferro," the woman said with a giggle. "What can I do for you?"

The seemingly innocent question sent Baltar's imagination off to new heights of debauchery. As it did, some small voice of sanity in the back of his mind shouted to be heard. Obviously this girl was a captive taken from one of lesser colonies that the Cylons had already taken. And she must also be just a peasant; otherwise Lucy would have listed her titles and honors to him. So the Cylons must be offering Baltar some entertainment to pass the time until their Imperious Leader deigned to grant him an audience.

But Baltar had a mission to accomplish, that small insistent voice in his mind protested. There's no time for this. Baltar had to… had to…

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked, stepping close.

What did Baltar have to do again? Ah well, it could wait, and to refuse the Cylons' hospitality would be rude. Baltar's arm snaked around Lucy's slender waist and pulled her even closer.

"I'm fine," Baltar told her. He planted a kiss on her lips. "So what ever can we do to pass the time?"


End file.
